All We See
by percychased
Summary: "I become insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity." - Edgar Allan Poe ;; A drabble collection for various things. All pairings, all genres. Sixty chapters, now complete.
1. Shiny Golden Ball

**For owluvr's Character Diversity Challenge**

**Character: James Sirius Potter**

**Prompt: Snitch**

**Word Count: 236**

James Sirius Potter was a cute baby. He was the exact mix of his parents- auburn hair, hazel eyes smattered with green, and his smile seemed to light up the whole room.

Out of their circle of friends, including Neville and Hannah, Luna and Rolf, Ron and Hermione – Ginny and Harry were the first to have a baby. It had only been five years since the war had ended, and even thought the dust was far from settling, things were much, much better now.

When James was a year old, he got into everything, magically sealed or not. His parents marvelled at how much trouble he got himself into, and the extraordinary amounts of magical incidents that seemed to happen around him.

He eventually found something in his fathers' desk drawer, the topmost one – a shiny golden ball, and when James wrapped his chubby fingers around the ball, feather-like wings unwrapped themselves from around the ball and started flapping, gently. The toddler stared, mesmerized, his chubby fingers trying to grasp the little ball that was floating around his head, tantalizingly out of reach.

What was he supposed to do? He _had _to get that ball. And for the first time of his life, he pushed himself up onto his baby feet, and took a single, shaky step, capturing the little balll tightly.

James Sirius Potter had just caught the snitch for the first time.


	2. Princess

**For owluvr's Character Diversity Challenge.**

**Character: Lily Luna Potter.**

**Prompt: Princess. **

**Word Count: 149**

Lily Luna Potter was pretty. She knew that, and she wasn't going to deny it. But she wasn't the type of person to parade around showing it off. She'd rather play it down, the no-makeup and plain ponytail look. She found that there wasn't anything to gain from caking on makeup and turning herself into something she's not. And her family knew that the most.

The other girls in her year at Hogwart would always call her 'Princess' – tauntingly, of course. Every time a teacher let her off – 'Princess'. It bothered her, it really did, because she knew she wasn't. She just tried to lay low, and stay that way. But she'd get glared at by the Slytherins, shunned by the girls in her year. Her best friend, funny to say, was her cousin Lucy.

She wasn't a princess. She was just Lily Luna Potter, and that was all.


	3. Not a Squib

** For owluvr's Character Diversity Challenge**

**Character: Albus Severus Potter**

**Prompt: Magical**

**Word Count: 231**

Was he a Squib? He couldn't help but entertain the thought. If he was… would mum and dad care about him at all? Would they still love him, even if he was shunned by most of wizarding society. James was already at Hogwarts. His brother wouldn't tell anybody he was Squib, but he was sure the press would find out. He could imagine the headline. _The Chosen One's Son: A Squib? _He'd be completely, utterly, embarrased, and could do nothing about it.

He wanted to be magical. He wanted to go to Hogwarts, meet best friends, go to Hogsmeade, have fun. But he hadn't shown many signs of magic over the past few years. His mother told him that they happen more often when a baby is younger, and that he should really stop worrying about it. Okay, figuratively, let's say he was magical. But what if he wasn't magical _enough? _Not good enough? The owls were supposted to be arriving soon- but what if only one owl showed up instead of two? What would he do then?

"Al, your letter's here, you great bloody prat! Come get it!" the familiar voice of James shouted from downstairs.

_Mr. Potter,_

_ We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy…._

Okay, so he wasn't a Squib. Maybe he just had a tendency to overreact.


	4. After Time

It wasn't his fault - it never was - but he knew whenever people looked at him, said his name, they were reminded of his namesake. Fred Gideon Weasley I. Fred Gideon Weasley II. When his father was in one of those 'moods,' and gave him a heart-wrenching look that made Fred II feel badly, even though it wasn't his fault. It never would be, and his family very well knew that, the uncle who died years before he was born.

He was born six years, two months, and twenty-five days later. He wasn't going to try to find the time down to the hour, minute, and second, because that would be more talking, talking to people about him. And Fred didn't know if he could handle the looks they gave him; like they were hoping he was a incarceration of his late uncle... and no matter how guilty he felt when he said this, but he wished they would see him as his own person.

But time doesn't erase all wounds.

* * *

_For owluvr's Character Diversity Boot Camp._

_If You Dare Challege, prompt #28 - Spitting Image _

_Fred Weasley II - Prompt: Time - Word Count: 172_


	5. Borrowed Time

**Character Diversity Boot Camp: prompt forgotten**

**Character: Peter Pettigrew/Wormtail**

**Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Edible Dark Marks**

**Word Count: 323**

It was as if they never took Peter Pettigrew seriously. A small, whimpering boy with no good talents, just trailing behind his superiors. He thought it was a little bit – alright, _extremely _– unfair that James was so good on the Quidditch Pitch, or how Sirius had most of Hogwart's female population wrapped around his finger, and perfect prefect Remus was just so smart.

Even the nicknames they had for each other made Peter sound… how do you put it? Unworthy. Moony, Padfoot, Prongs. _Wormtail…_it sounded more or less like a worm. Animagus form: he was a stinking _rat, _for Godric's sake, while James and Sirius were a stag and a black dog, respectively. It was unfair.

Of course James had the gorgeous girlfriend and had the perfect relationship. Of course people accepted Remus just because he was a werewolf. Of course Sirius had somewhere to go when he needed it. _Wormtail _never had any of that. No girlfriend; no girl would come fifty meters near him. People didn't accept Wormtail- he only followed after the three, because nobody else would take him in.

One thing he wanted to be was remembered, because right now, it seems as if all he was is forgotten.

He had regretted joining the Death Eaters. It was a spur of the moment decision, when all of those jealous, bitter feelings came up again; but really, what was the point in resisting? Years of borrowed time, that's what the Order was getting. And Peter was caught- support the cause that would ultimately take over, even if it wasn't with his 'friends' - or continue with the Order, feeling like an outsider, a follower. He wanted to survive; it was silly, being afraid of death, with times like these, but even if Peter had nothing else to work with, he had survival instinct. And that was something he could use to his advantage.

And that's exactly what he did.


	6. Romantic Words

2 weeks ago

_"So where do we go from here?" she asked him nervously, chewing her lip and staring at her sneaker-clad toes. They were outside the Burrow, lying side-by-side on a neighboring view, staring at the sky in a comfortable silence until Hermione had broken it._

_He didn't say anything; his brow had just furrowed lightly, like he was deep in thought. She continued biting her bottom lip, trying to concentrate on the flawless blue of the sky but finding that she couldn't._

_"I don't care where we go," he said lightly, breaking Hermione's anxious movements – she froze. "As long as you're there with me."_

_She found herself grinning – was that actually Ronald Weasley, saying something romantic? She wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't heard it. Maybe his emotional range wasn't a teaspoon – maybe just a regular spoon, or even possibly a latel._

_"That sounds about right." She finished, sighing in contempt. It had confirmed what she had been wondering all along; Ron Weasley really was wonderful._

* * *

Hermione sat on the plush armchair in the common room, knees drawn up to her chest and eyes glazed over.

What was most unusual about Hermione was the fact that a small smile played on her lips, and she was absentmindedly wrapping a strand of bushy brown hair around her finger. It appeared as though she was enjoying a very nice daydream, because even when Ginny had yelled, 'Oi! Hermione!' she still didn't move an inch.

* * *

**Weasley Wizard Wheezes Challenge: Category Love Potions**

**Word Count (Without A/N- 245**


	7. Up and Started Again

**This isn't for any competition/challenge, just for fun. I found this drabble in the back of my computer - I wrote this ages ago. OC. R&R please!**

It wasn't going to be easy. Hell, it was going to be incredibly hard. His grandfather was weak, and however much Garrick Ollivander wanted to continue wandmaking, he couldn't. His once steady hands were shaky and inconvenient, and the trips to St. Mungo's became more and more frequent.

The wizarding world of Britain was shaken. Understandably, because of the murders and corrupted government, the last eight years had been marred with the fear that your loved ones would be next on that 'missing persons' list, or even worse, the new additions list at the morgue.

Jamie Ollivander shoved his hands into his robe pockets and let the cool spring breeze ruffle his hair as he surveyed the abandoned shop.  
Windows were shattered and boxes upon boxes of wands were missing - presumably stolen, Jamie thought. It would take him a good two or three days to get business back in order - and even then, he didn't expect the few wands he had left to last long. Muggle-borns from all of wizarding Britain would come to Ollivanders to get new wands - theirs had been confiscated and broken by the Ministry.

Stepping inside the creaky shop, he took a good look around. Everything was broken or scattered or in disarray, burnt and charred, dusty and covered with a thick layer of grime.

Reparo, he muttered, and the glass from the windows flew into their proper spots.  
Since the dark and chilly aura of the shop wasn't that inviting, Jamie muttered_ incendio_ and the fire-lit glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling flickered with light.  
The charred door, hanging off it's hinges - well, that was definitely beyond fixing. _Evanesco._  
Jamie conjured a new door, contrasting from the rest of the beaten-down shop because of the gleam it gave off.

Not in the mood to spend the rest of his afternoon fixing up a dreary, dark shop by himself, he cast a few protective wards - don't need anything else stolen or trashed - and gave the shop one last fleeting look before continuing down Diagon Alley.


	8. Live in the Moment

In all honesty, Rose Weasley did not want to graduate from Hogwarts.

She was perfectly content doing assignments, eating at the Great Hall every morning, returning back to the common room at night. She would miss going to Hogsmeade, the excited aura of an upcoming Quidditch match, bloody hell - she'd probably even miss the elderly Madame Pomfrey.

She was studying for her N.E.W.T's, knowing that in a few months she'd get back her grades, and start some job she wasn't overly enthusiastic about.

When she told Hugo this, he just shook his head like she was being the usual crazy Rose, and told her that she'd be able to do whatever she wanted to, use magic whenever she wanted to, Apparate wherever she wanted to.

But she had disagreed, and told him that, "It's not going to be fine. Change is never fine. They say it is, but it's not."

But before he walked away, he had told her, "If you don't give it a chance, you'll never know."

That made her think.

* * *

Hugo's words ended up becoming her motto, for everything she did, and she had never looked back - because Hugo was right, and change was inevitable. Because the past was the past, and the present was the present, and Rose learned to live in the moment.

* * *

**Stubborn Rose, haha.**

**Word count: 220**

**Written for The Big Bang Theory Quotes challenge by BamberBurrow on HPFC and The Diagon Alley Challenge, category The Leaky Cauldron**


	9. Different

"C'mon, just give me a chance."

"Colin, I said _no!_ Back off and leave me alone."

"But I really, really like you," said Colin pleadingly.

Cho gave him a scathing look. "And I don't like you. Period. At all. Now let me go to Transfiguration."

"Why? Why don't you like me? I promise, I'll stop bothering you if you can at least tell me _why."_

"Oh, I don't know, it might be the fact _you're two years younger than me_-"

"So? Age is just a number."

"So? I'm seventeen. You're fifteen. It doesn't work." she snapped, trying to dodge him. He stayed in his spot.

"It could-"

"No, it couldn't!" she hissed. Cho closed her eyes and quickly maintained herself. "I mean, you're a nice guy. We aren't in the same year, or into the same things, or even in the same house. We're _different, _Colin."

"So you want some nancy boy who's all Ravenclaw-smart, then, just like you?" replied Colin. Her eyes closed, and she struggled to maintain her composure. She didn't know that kind of comment couldn't come out of him.

"_No, _Colin. But I want someone I can connect with. And honestly, we really have nothing in common."

He just stared at her for a few moments. "Well, then, how about you go on a date- no, Cho, don't give me that look. I promise you, if you don't like it, you can run away screaming and I'll never talk to you again. Just give me this one chance. Please."

"_Fine,"_ she snapped, and pivoted on her heel."Next Hogsmeade weekend." Cho called over her shoulder as she was walking away.

"You won't regret it!" he called after her retreating figure, grinning to himself.

* * *

**Word Count: 286**

**For: Wand Wood Competition, category Elder**

**Haha, Cho and Colin. So unusual, and non-canon because Cho marries a Muggle and Colin dies in the Battle of Hogwarts. But, enjoy!**


	10. The Feeling When You Fly

**Word Count: 519**

**Written for Character Diversity Boot Camp, prompt flying and Diagon Alley Challenge category Quality Quidditch Supplies.**

Katie's long, dark blonde hair fanned out behind her as she zoomed through the pitch. Though she wasn't actually playing Quidditch at the moment, she loved flying, feeling the wind in her hair, the wind against her face. It was exhilarating, there was nothing that could even compare to the wonderful feeling of being on a broomstick. It felt so freeing, and there was nothing else in the world that could cheer her up more then her broomstick, a sunny day, and a Quidditch pitch.

It was a bright, sunny day, not a single cloud in sight. It was the first sunny day after a string of thunderstorms (knowing Wood, they still had to practice through it anyways) and Katie wanted to soak in the fabulous weather before _another _bloody thunderstorm hit and the team would desperately plead with Wood to cancel practice (who obviously wouldn't. Quidditch was great, Katie couldn't deny it, but that guy was _obsessed _beyond belief).

She dived in and out of the stands, winding through the goal posts and making sharp dives and pulling back up, just a few meters from making contact with the ground. This would always lift Katie up, after a bad day and wanting to blow off some steam. Quidditch and flying, at Hogwarts or at home, it didn't matter.

Katie zoomed to the ground, landing easily and hopped off her broom, tucking it under her arm as she made her way to the locker rooms. Katie had decided to fly around before Quidditch practice started - it was one in the afternoon on a Sunday, and the rest of the team had spent the morning in Hogsmeade. She loved it there, really, but since she already spent Christmas break and half of summer break with her Mum there, the novelty of going once or twice every few months had worn off.

Brushing her fingers through her hair, trying to tame the flyaways, Katie was still elated from flying around the pitch when her teammates came in to get ready. She was gathered with the rest of the team in the locker room when the obsessive captain came in, his moving figurine board under his arm. They looked tired, eyelids drooping, but Katie was still wide awake.

"Alright," started Wood, "I thought of some new plays..."

The rest of the team sighed deeply, including Katie, used to this, and settled into a half-conscious slumber as Wood droned on. Within five minutes, Fred was leaning heavily against Angelina, whose eyelids fluttered in a desperate attempt to keep herself awake. Katie tried to listen, but it was very, very hard...

"So," finished Wood, after a little less than an hour, "time to start practicing." The team shuffled out of the locker rooms,and began doing the usual flying laps around the pitch while Wood yelled things that everyone ignored unless it was directed at them.

Katie closed her eyes and relished the breeze catching her hair, her blonde waves dancing in the wind as she made her way around the pitch, following the others.

She really did love flying, Quidditch or not.


	11. To Dance in the Rain

The rain was refreshing, it was calming, it was soothing. She'd forget about all of her worries, everything she's ever done wrong, and just laugh and spin and dance in the rain, her hair sticking to her head, clothes clinging to her thin frame.

Her friends (honestly, they were more like acquaintances because they treated Hannah as if she was under an invisibility cloak most of the time, unless they had a point to be made) called her totally insane. Isn't it cold? Aren't you going to get hypothermia or something? But it was a way of releasing all of that built up anger and frustration and loneliness and it made her feel free. She'd go back to the common room, soaked to the bone but much, much happier than she was before she left. It was a way to forget about her insecurities and just focus on being _her, _because who cared what anybody else thought?

She, Hannah, had always been the _alone _one. She wasn't pompous and outgoing like Ernie, or extremely nice, like Susan, and consequently, she was ignored, she was invisible. Hufflepuff was the weak option, or so they say, already, so why would anyone pay any attention to _her, _a Hufflepuff half-blood with no special talents, nothing charming, not remotely pretty, with her constantly flushed face and unmanageable pigtails.

But no matter how hopeless Hannah felt, how lonely, desolate, and cold, she'd always dance in the rain.

* * *

_Character Diversity Boot Camp, prompt dance. Wand Wood Challenge, category Ash. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, category Headless Hats._

_If You Dare Challenge, prompt #504 Rain_


	12. Always Pure

** Written for Black Beauties Challenge, character: Cedrella, Wand Wood Challenge, category Cypress, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Challenge, category Ton-Tongue Toffees.**

She wasn't, she couldn't, she can't.

Because she _has _to be the poster daughter, the definition of pure-blood perfection. But standing outside, the bitter winter wind piercing and cold, she thought. Would true love be worth the scandal, the disappointment in her parents' eyes? Yes, Septimus was pure-blood too, but he didn't share the same sick views on blood purity that Cedrella's family did. _Toujours pur, _was their motto. _Always pure. _

But she'd stand outside with him, and laugh and talk amidst the snow and the harsh cold. It was something special that they shared together, and it truly made her love winter, because she loved him too, among the cold, the snow, the white. White was purity and innocence, and it was ironic, because what she was doing was _not _innocent at all.

Callidora and Cedrella were the pride and joy of the Black family, and what would people say if the eldest daughter ran off with a Weasley? (_Oh, that girl, she was no good from the start.) _And only the two of them. But she knew he'd say yes, and they'd leave as soon as they both left school and start a new life together, happy and joyful and nothing like she'd ever felt before, because true love wasn't something someone could find in a arranged, stuffy marriage that her parents forced upon her.

She wasn't falling in love with Septimus.

She couldn't fall in love with Septimus.

She can't fall in love with Septimus.

But she did anyways.


	13. Laugh

**Character Diversity Boot Camp, prompt laugh, character Lily Evans Potter. **

There were some people who had high, nasally, laughs, others cold and calculating, and some gossipy and annoying.

Lily was nothing like any of these people. She had a warm, genuine laugh, one that would light up a room and uplift someone. It was a type of laugh that people (and one particular Gryffindor Chaser) never got tired of hearing. He, specifically, could listen to her laugh all day.

Lily, of course, being Lily, would be completely insecure about her laugh and swear to Marlene that she sounded like a troll in pain. Marlene, being the bane of Lily's confidence, would tell her to chin up, because honestly, if she did sound like a troll, would James Potter really like her all that much?

And that was the reason James Potter was always making a fool of himself.

To get her to laugh.


	14. Gentle Tug

He'd chose his path. There was no going back on that. He could feel a tinge of disappointment; from his classmates, and an Oliver Wood (_"but you - you could play for England!"_) but he, himself wasn't disappointed.

Dragons had fascinated him, from the day his mother read children's tales about them to him, to when they studied them in sixth-year Care of Magical Creatures. It wasn't with a heavy heart he was making the decision to cut Quidditch from the act - he knew he'd go for dragons. It had always been that, really. There was no changing..

He'd led the Gryffindor Quidditch team to victory as captain, achieved outstanding grades on his N.E. , but he couldn't help but feel like something was missing... something he couldn't put his nose on, exactly.

Maybe it was her, and the way she laughed, long hair fanning out in the wind, or the way her nose would scrunch up when she thought something was funny. Her midnight blue eyes, and how they would sparkle when she smiled - his favorite part of her, really. Her smile.

But as he thought before, he'd chosen his path. There wasn't any going back, even if there would always be a gentle tug towards home and familiarity and _her. _

* * *

_I have long been fascinated with one Charlie Weasley; this was written for the Character Diversity Boot Camp, prompt smile, and the Wand Wood competition, category Chestnut._

_Word Count: 216_


	15. Barmy, She Is

**Bold: Harry**

_Italic: Hermione_

_**Bold Italic: Ron**_

Set during the time the Trio were at the Burrow in the beginning of DH.

* * *

**We could Apparate into Hogwarts-**

_Don't be silly, Harry. Honestly. _

_**All due respects, Hermione, but why the bloody hell are we writing a note to each other? We're right next to each other. We can put the Muffliato Charm up.**_

_Did you not hear your mother, Ron? She said, and I quote, "No silencing or blocking charms or I'll hex your door shut for a week." _

**She would, too. She would know.**

_**Probably. **_

_On task! Okay, so what Death Eaters do we know of? (I'll put this list in safekeeping afterwards._

_**Why? **_

_Do you need to question everything? You very well know why. _

**Draco Malfoy, one. Lucius Malfoy, another. Nott. Crabble Sr. Goyle Sr. Avery. Mulciber. Yaxley-**

_**Isn't Yaxley that crazy blonde bloke at the Ministry? **_

_He also has seniority over your father, Ron, so don't be saying that out loud. And thank you, Harry. We don't need anymore unnecessary interruptions. (Ron)_

**_Relax, Hermione. Take it easy. We're in this together. _**

_And that's why you need to help! What do you suppose is the answer to the darkest times? What's another Death Eater, Harry-_

**_I am helping! How am I supposed to answer her barmy questions, Harry-_**

_Barmy? Har-de-har. It's clear we don't understand most of this Horcrux business, but it's the last thing on my mind to just sit around and do nothing. So let's do something. Harry, can you-_

**_I do things! _**

_I wasn't talking specifically about you, Ron-_

**Both of you, just stop. Hermione's right, let's get on task. Just stop bickering.**

_**Whatever.**_

_Alright._

**_She's still barmy, though._**

_Ron!_

* * *

_Writing Scripts Challenge, notes, prompt Yaxley_

_Songs by Genre - Relax, Take it Easy by Mika_

_Word Count: 262_


	16. Astronomy Tower

"I love the Astronomy Tower. I can come out here, and just... breathe," she murmured, standing millimeters away from the edge she could very well fall off of and cause her death. Her long caramel hair was fluttering in the wind, and her eyes were closed peaceful, a faint smile on her face.

"Aren't you- aren't you going to fall?" Su worried, eyeing the other girl curiously.

"No. I can just come out here and see the stars and completely forget about every silly little mundane problem I have," Lisa explained.

Su gazed at the sky; a blanket of midnight blue with dazzling, twinkling lights dotted in patterns as far as she could see. Yes, it was beautiful, but that still didn't explain how she could get _lost _in them. "How do you get lost in them? They're pretty, yes, but..."

"It's a whole other world for me, the constellations have so many stories. It's something I've always been fascinated in, not the Muggle science of it, but the spirituality," Lisa answered, still unmoving. "It reminds you how little your problems seem when you're out here, just alone with the night sky."

* * *

_Word Count: 192_

_Written for the;_

_Wand Wood Competition, category Walnut (yes, I looked it up on Harry Potter Wiki, Lisa Turpin and Sue Li are Ravenclaws)_

_Florence and the Machine Challenge, song Cosmic Love (write a fic about the stars)_


	17. Of Lesser Importance

_**Prompt 2. Vague Misery (If You Dare Challenge)**_

_**Character Diversity Boot Camp: Prompt Humiliate **_

* * *

"You need to snap out of it," Pansy hissed. Daphne looked up at her and rolled her eyes.

"I'm not _depressed, _Pansy," the blonde girl retorted, grey eyes chilling and distant.

"You haven't smiled in weeks - haven't even smirked, not even when that blood traitor Weasley got punishment with the Carrows. I just have to say it straight up - get over it. You're depressed. Do something about it."

"I'm not depressed," Daphne argued in an equally harsh tone. "I'm... vaguely miserable."

Pansy snorted with indignation; did her friend really think that? "Daphne, you made Snape look vaguely miserable. Why the hell are you so depressed lately?"

"Nothing," Daphne concluded airily, getting up from the stiff common room couch.

"It's Theodore, isn't it," Pansy replied after her retreating back, making her freeze.

"Who it may or may not be has nothing to do with you," the girl responded coolly and exited the room before her friend had another chance to respond.

* * *

Pansy may have been right, but that didn't mean Daphne was going to accept it. She was stubborn, and even if she was wrong (and knew it) she always, _always _had to win an arguement.

And one thing Daphne Hydra Greengrass couldn't stand was prying people. To be fair, she had done some prying herself, but wasn't it called a _personal life _for a reason? Pansy could be a decent friend on occasion, but lately Daphne had just wanted to wring the girls' neck. It was utter madness.

It was all Theodore's fault. It was as if he knew how she felt and purposely went to hurt her. _And so he goes out with her fucking little sister. _Astoria, who's only fifteen and doesn't even know what the hell she wants to do when she's out of Hogwarts. Most likely make some respectable pure-blooded marriage and be a boring society housewife. And he's what? Seventeen? No doubt he'll cheat on her, if he graduates and they're still together.

Daphne was quite furious at her little sister; she went so far as to not even talk to her at all. In fact, until they duo break up, she won't be talking to either of them. Astoria knew Daphne liked Theodore; it was humiliating for _Daphne _that Astoria got the boy. But she wasn't planning on letting her sister win, either.

And that's because Daphne's a stubborn girl, a Slytherin, who's cunning and vengeful and can _definitely _hold a grudge and figure out how to get what she wants.


	18. Australian Outback

"I have to get my parents' memories back," stated Hermione, determined, "and I can't put it off any longer. It's been two months."

"Well," started Harry, "where are they?"

"Australia."

"That's a pretty vague answer, Hermione... how long is it going to take?"

Her expression was one of fear now - fear, because _what if she couldn't find her parents? _and _would they hate her for putting a memory charm on them_? "I don't know," she breathed, bracing herself for the question she was going to ask next, "but can you two come with me? I can't... I can't do this alone."

"Sure," nodded Harry, who had already planned on going.

"If we go, can we visit the Australian Outback?" asked Ron, contributing to the discussion for the first time. Hermione rolled her eyes and suppressed the urge to hex him.

"Oh yes," replied Hermione, heavily laced with sarcasm, "of course. Because I'm sure that's where they'll be."

* * *

_If you dare Challenge, prompt #36 Australian Outback_


	19. Foreign Land

The street was bustling with locals and visitors alike, the crumbling stature of the Colosseum in the distance.

A six-year-old with frizzy curls tied into plaits and a blue summer dress that fell to her knees rocked back and forth on her heels, eyes shining brightly.

"Where're we gonna go first, mum?"

Mrs Granger sighed and turned to her husband, with whom she shared a glance with. The six year old in question had been asking the same question over and over since they'd arrived at the airport.

"All over the place, Hermione, c'mon," said Mrs Granger, rather a bit anxious.

The little girl bounced up and down again. "Where to first? How about the Col-cola..?" She point a finger to the ruin in the distance.

"Colosseum, dear," Mr Granger corrected.

"How about we go there? I really, really want to see it!" Mrs Granger laughed lightly. That was their daughter, curious and always wanting to find out more. A knack that would be quite useful in life, really.

* * *

_If You Dare Challenge, prompt #26. Italy._


	20. All of This and Hell Too

It should have been him.

It should have been him making her grin, making her cheeks tinge pink as she stuttered a thank you for his compliment. It could be him, leading her into the restaurant delicately by the hand, dressed finely, heading towards a secluded table. The other men would be staring at her, but she would only have eyes for him.

Nope, that wasn't the case at all. It was someone else, somebody else she was loving. He didn't understand love, and he thought he never would - the twists and turns and plunges, it wasn't always perfect, he had learned.

It felt almost physically painful to see someone else with her, a nice punch in the gut; someone that wasn't himself. He blamed himself for the downward spiral in the relationship - he never blamed her for anything, perhaps because he loved her too much. That was what he told himself. He had (he couldn't really decide whether the verb should be past tense or present) loved her too much, they said.

Another brick seemed to drop inside of his stomach as she grinned, dark chocolate eyes twinkling in amusement. It was the half-grin, half-laugh that she always reserved for him, the one that he loved just too much...

Wow, she had really turned him into a sap, hadn't she?

Hermione had that kind of effect on Ron.

* * *

_If You Dare challenge #154 Someone to Love_

_Florence and the Machine Challenge - Category All This and Heaven Too _


	21. Impossibly Handsome

"You are impossib-"

"-bly handsome, I know." He grinned winningly at her, and she audibly groaned. He couldn't get any fuller of himself, could he?

"Can you just concentrate?" she snapped, red hair fanning over her shoulder as she pivoted away to work on the task at hand.

"On you," he winked, either immune to her cold shoulder or not caring. It took every inch of resisting to not slap him.

"Just shut up, please, and work on the draught! It isn't my fault you _completely suck _at potions and Slughorn had to pair _you _with _me_! This isn't going to work if you're completely off-task and making... comments!" She finished lamely.

She thought she saw a flicker of upset in his eyes, but it was quickly taken away by a charming smile. "Sure thing, Evans. No need to shout."

Lily huffed and turned back to the cauldron, which was smoking. James slid into a stool next to her, drumming his wand on the table where the cauldron was atop.

This was going to be a long Potions class.

* * *

_Word Count: 179_

_If You Dare Challenge, #110 There is no need to shout._


	22. A Good Kind of Cliche

_This is a high T rating, and for a reason. This is much more - ah, suggestive, than I usually write, and is written for Empress Empoleon's Colors Competition, red positive (a passionate romance), and the Pick Your Own Prompts Challenge, pairing Katie/Oliver and prompts scarlet and passion._

* * *

It'd be a little cliché, but you wouldn't change it for the world.

He'd tell you all the things every girl is dying to hear, and you'd just melt. Add in a few sweet (not suggestive) comments, and you would have half the mind to snog him right there.

He would grin at you, all charming, and you would snake your arms around his neck, and his would find there way to your waist, and you're _very, very _conscious as to where they are.

It would be kind of hazy; a little bit of a blur. The whole world would stop (metaphorically, of course) and you would barely even feel it when your back is pressing against the wall, and his hands are where platonic friends' hands shouldn't be, but you don't mind.

And sooner or later, he'd be running his hands up and down your back, and you would be wondering why this didn't happen earlier. A pang of – something, something that had nothing to do with the chocolate you'd eaten earlier would happen, and sticking to cliché, it would be nothing you had ever felt before.

You were vaguely wondering why he was so good at this (maybe he had lots of practice?) but you decided that you didn't care. The clothes seem much like a barrier, and you're dying to get them off – and he does that for you, your scarlet shirt crumpled on the floor. Every time your skin is pressed against his, you feel like a flame is being ignited, over and over again and you don't want the feeling to ever stop.

The aftermath, where you're breathing heavily with your face flushed and it's just begun to sink in, what you've done, he'd turn to you and say, "I love you, Katie," and you would regret nothing.


	23. Unnoticeable

If you were one to notice the little things, you would see it.

The way her feet dragged a little more when she walked, or that she never looked up. Her smile never reached her eyes, and it wasn't really a smile; more like a grimace of pain.

Her bushy hair was in the same messy plait down her back, done quickly and not too much thought put into it. Her billowing black robes seemed to hang looser and looser as the days went on, and her wrists were thin and bony.

Dark circles seemed to be permanently etched underneath her eyes, and her eyelids would flutter tiredly.

But no one really seemed to notice, because they never looked at the little things.

* * *

_Word Count: 123_

_Written for; the Wand Wood Competition, category Beech_


	24. Your Own Little Girl

when you saw her for the first time

when she blinked and opened her eyes

rose, you called her

your little f*l*o*w*e*r

a _d.a.s.h.i.n.g _of red hair

and s~p~a~r~k~l~i~n~g

brown eyes

she's perfect.

and you feel a little bit more

-complete-

you didn't realize you'd been

_craving _for this

(until it actually happened)

a _little human _of your own

to {love} and hold

and you made a promise

to yourself and to her

that her (world)

would be safe and sound

and she wouldn't be h-u-r-t

the way you have been

* * *

_written for the Poetry Boot Camp, prompt flower_

_and the If You Dare challenge, prompt #40 craving_

_word count: 117_


	25. Perfection in Her Eyes

A cough sounded from the bedroom next to theirs, and Hermione groaned.

"It's your turn," mumbled Ron, and shifted.

Even though she had checked up on Rose last night, Hermione swung her feet over the side of the bed, and rubbing her eyes, she padded her way to her one-month-old daughters' nursery..

The tiny red-headed girl was lying on her back, wide awake and blinking up at her mother with hazel eyes. Suddenly, her face scrunched up, and she let out a loud sneeze that echoed through the house before wailing loudly.

Still half-asleep, she picked up the newborn and cradled Rose in her arms, rocking her back and forth while the wails subsided.

Despite never sleeping through the night, the energy it took to take care of a baby, she knew she'd do it all over again in a heartbeat.

* * *

_the Wand Wood Competition, category Rowen (parent/child)_

_the If You Dare Challenge, prompt #20 night fever_

_Word count: 141_


	26. Meet the Soon-to-be In-Laws

"Your parents aren't going to kill me, are they?" worried Colin, tapping his wand nervously on his upper thigh.

"No," laughed Demelza, "but my mum is a major feminist so you just have to watch what you say in front of her."

"Good," breathed Colin, and she smiled.

"You know, if you're really that worried, we can go sometime else."

"No, it's alright, I'm just being a pansy-" Demelza laughed, "-so let's go."

"You're seriously not going to chicken out this time?"

"No- well, I'll try my best."

"Let's get going before you change your mind, then."

"Okay."

It was time to meet the soon-to-be in-laws.

* * *

_the Creevey Brothers Challenge_

_the If You Dare Challenge, prompt #24 feminists_

_Word count; 106_


	27. It's Reality, Though

you can't help it

she's /perfect\

_beautiful_

_intelligent_

_kind_

_loving_

she's [taboo] too

-off-limits-

maybe that's the reason

the reason you want _her_

sometimes it seems /perfect\

just _you _and _her, _against the world

then r-e-a-l-i-t-y b-i-t-e-s

and you're a.l.o.n.e again

and _she _still doesn't know

and you don't know if you'll tell her

you don't want to lose a

~friendship~

even if _you _see _her _as more

(but she'd never go for you like that,

would she?)

you're not sure

and even though you're a

g*r*y*f*f*i*n*d*o*r

you're still too _afraid _to try.

* * *

_written for the Poetry Boot camp, prompt perfect_

_the All Poetry In Challenge, category freeverse_

_the If You Dare Challenge, prompt #4 reality bites_

_word count; 130_


	28. Publicity and Idiots

Yes, being a professional Quidditch player had perks.

Such as being payed a hefty sum that two large familys could live on comfortably, publicity, awards, fans… it was all one, big package.

And Oliver Wood only wanted one thing out of it; the Quidditch.

Thus the reason he was ducking out of the locker rooms after matches to avoid screaming fans, who would somehow know the wierdest, most awkward facts about him – "Hey, Oliver, is it true in Hogwarts you got thrown out of the library from Madame Pince for breaking the binding on Quidditch Through the Ages, which you had read one too many times?" "Is it _really _true that you and Luna Lovegood eloped to Finland before returning to Britain?"

Oliver loved Quidditch (it was quite literally the bane of his existence), but _why _did people pry into his private life?

As his sister quite literally put it, "Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups."

* * *

_Word Count: 160_

_Written for the House Points Competition on HPFC using the quote, "Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups."_


	29. Not Just What You Think

They had been spending time together for weeks, just the two of them.

It would probably be one of the biggest regrets of Neville's school life; not getting to know Hannah Abbott better. A simple glance at her told you she wasn't anything special – just another recent Hogwarts Hufflepuff graduate working a mediocre job.

She became a routine for him; every day, after helping rebuild Hogwarts, he'd stop by the Leaky Cauldron for a Butterbeer.

And Hannah would always be there.

At first the conversation was awkward and stuttering (Neville seemed to have a talent for instigating those) but later – later, they learned there was much more to someone then their reputation.

Hannah wasn't _just _a Hufflepuff – somehow, she always had the right words to say, and she would always be there, and he could always trust her to look at things in an unbiased, clear way.

And Neville wasn't _just _a Gryffindor – he had that strange mix of bravery and dependency that endeared him to her, and he wouldn't judge her because of her mistakes, because, well, who hadn't made those?

They made their own Leaky Cauldron visits a little more exciting.

_Word Count: 193_

_Written for the House Points Competiton, using the setting the Leaky Cauldron_


	30. Nightmares

_Hello... I'm back with another Hermione fic (yes, I write a lot of Hermione *sigh*)_

_Entered in the Gemstone Competition, under the category Fluorite._

_Emily. x_

* * *

It happened almost every night; the screams and the crying and the pleading in her sleep. For that reason Hermione avoided sleep; she would stay up reading, walking, cooking, _anything _to stay awake because even if she took a Dreamless Sleep Potion, she would still have a tingling of fear coursing through her while she slept...

Earlier that day, her and Ginny were indulging in some much-needed girl talk. Ginny had been droning on and on about a very romantic date Harry had taken her on, and Hermione was resting against the window, eyelids fluttering and trying to prevent herself from falling asleep... a plan that evidently didn't work, because when Ginny looked up, Hermione was completely out cold.

A few hours later was when the terrifying screams pierced the silence of the Burrow, jolting its inhabitants out of their slumber, wands at the ready.

It was the same dream again -

_"Mudblood!" the dark-lidded witch hissed, looming over her with the silvery knife, snarling. "You took it! Tell us you took it!"_

_"I... I didn't take nothi- ah!" She cried out in pain, pain so intense it was bringing stars to her eyes and there was a flash of silver by her forearm, and her whole body was ignited in pain... _

And she screamed. And screamed, until no end, because that's what she had done when she was being tortured, and it had repeated all over again, even the little details one should have forgotten - but then again, she didn't think she would ever forget.

Hermione would wake up and start shaking, her body wracked with incessant sobs and her heart pounding wildly in her chest, and she would feel a sense of relief... and pain, and resolve that she would never sleep again although she knew she would.

If only she could forget.


	31. Homecoming

_This is for the Create-A-Potion Challenge, the first for Elixir to Enduce Euphoria._

_This is the first next-gen I've done in a while... and the first-ever Lucy I've done._

_Emily. x_

* * *

It had been a while since he had been home.

Usually, Lysander would go out on month-long escapades to wherever for the Quibbler; Peru, Morocco, Latvia, even India... but he had never been gone this long. The letters he had written to Lucy were brief, flitting and repetitive, and Lucy was starting to get nervous.

It was always quiet and cold in the flat without him. It quickly got boring, and the only thing that kept Lucy sane was Diagon Alley shopping trips with Roxanne and her 'boyfriend of the month.'

But it had been much too long; Lucy could hardly remember what it felt like to have someone sleeping next to her, waking up and unable to get out of bed because he had his arms locked around her wait, playfully bickering about the bathroom schedule...

Yes, she missed it all, even the stupid little details.

That's why when she heard the lock clicking she put it off as Roxanne or something, and continued making dinner for herself.

"Lucy?"

She flinched and almost flung the knife where the voice came from, the entranceway of the kitchen. Lucy placed the knife down gently and turned to him.

"Lysander? Is that _actually _you?"

He laughed at her amazed expression. "Yes, it's actually me."

"Not that I'm upset to see you," started Lucy, "but where the _hell _have you been for the past two months?"

Lysander approached her and Lucy noticed the little glint in his eye, the one that would always appear just before he kissed her. And that's exactly what he did; a short, sweet, but very meaningful kiss.

He held her at arms length, and merely looked at her for a few seconds before starting. "We had found a lead twelve hours before the one-month deadline, and that idiot that I call my brother applied for an extended placement... so, yeah..."

"Oh," nodded Lucy. "Oh, okay." If she was telling the truth to herself, she thought it had been something worse - way worse.

"Sorry for the dead-slow responses, I wrote almost eight hours straight a day and I meant to write more but my hand would fall off... I love you, you know that, right?"

After two months of waiting to hear it, she almost fainted from happiness.

"I love you too."


	32. That Muggle Playwright

"What're you reading, Granger?" The whole entire common room groaned when that question was asked, knowing very well Hermione's response would be long and winded and most likely extremely enthusiastic.

"Shakespeare," she responded simply, and looked at Cormac pointedly, a stare that would usually make Ron and Harry rush back to their dorms in fear.

He seemed unfazed. "Wha- shake spear? What's that?"

Hermione huffed, (she was busy; wasn't it obvious?) and replied in short, clipped word with, "Muggle playwright."

Cormac shrugged and walked off. She clearly wasn't going to talk with him. He had been trying for days, and she wouldn't even give him the time of day. He wasn't that bad, was he?

_If You Dare Challenge, prompt #21 playwright_

_Words: 122 (my gosh this is short)_


	33. Scars Are Not Just Skin Deep

It had been a year, to the date.

May 2nd, 1999.

If anyone was to say that everything was perfect now, that would be a lie. Sure, there wasn't any Death Eaters or Voldemort, but the Second Wizarding War wasn't something that was forgotten about easily. There had been too many things lost, things that couldn't be replaced in the span of a year.

Hermione would wake up screaming from nightmares almost every night, and even though George tried, he couldn't smile the same way he had before. War _did _actually change people.

Even though it was proper etiquette to attend the ceremonies, nobody wanted to. The Dark Lord was defeated on that day, but so many other people were lost and it wasn't something that everybody wanted to remember. It would be all tears and speeches and sympathy, and neither Harry, the Weasleys', Hermione, and Neville wanted that. Nobody who had any inkling of the happenings of the war wanted that.

Maybe, though, someday, that would change.

* * *

_ Just a little drabble to let you all know that I, in fact, have not actually fallen off of the face of the earth. I'm in the midst of moving right now, and RL had been hectic, so I apologize. Plus, my wifi is a bitch, and randomly decides to not work when I need it most._

_Well, here you go. Em._


	34. Boy Advice

"I don't know what to do," admitted Ginny, swinging her red hair over her shoulder and bringing her knees to her chest. "I mean, I've tried everything, and he still won't notice me..."

Hermione lay down on her cot in Ginny's room at the Burrow, resting her head sideways so she could look up at the red-headed girl.

"What do you mean, 'you've tried everything'?"

"I... well, not _everything, _but you know I'm not desperate," admitted the thirteen year old girl.

"Yeah," agreed Hermione.

"What'd you think I should do?"

Hermione pondered the question. She really didn't have much experience with guys, but what she did know...

"Give him some time," she began, sitting up and crossing her legs. "Don't be nervous around him, just be yourself. Date other people, maybe. If things are meant to be, Ginny, they'll happen. If you're always constantly waiting for him to make a move, he won't get to _actually _know the real you."

Ginny bit her lip and thought about Hermione's answer. She did have a point - what was she doing, waiting and waiting for him? The crush (more like infatuation, really) would probably never go away, but there was no use in constantly pining. Maybe if she was a little more confident around him, maybe...

"Thanks, Hermione, you really are quite intelligent."

"So they say," she laughed in response, but winked at Ginny. "He's very protective of you, even if he won't admit it to himself."

Ginny just smiled, and leaned against the window in her room. Through the mist, she could see a set of identicals redheads - Fred and George - weaving there way through everybody on the little makeshift Quidditch pitch, with Bill and Charlie tossing an apple back and forth. Ron and Harry were racing, but Harry's Firebolt outstripped every broomstick out there combined and Ginny found her thoughts wondering to what it would be like riding on his broomstick with him, her arms around his waist...

"You really do like him, don't you?" snickered Hermione, catching Ginny in the act of staring at Harry through the window.

* * *

_Written for Cheeky Slytherin Lass' Master of Spells over at HPFC, using the prompts 'mist' and 'time', and sticking strictly to canon - when Hermione gives Ginny advice about Harry._

_Word Count: 351_


	35. Of Something New

Narcissa Black was the perfect Slytherin ice princess.

Long, blonde hair, pin-straight and down to her waist, top-of-the-notch robes, and an air of arrogance that surrounded her. She wasn't as crude as Bellatrix, or as kind and gentle (too much, if you asked her) as Andromeda. No, Narcissa Black was a Slytherin, through and through, and could have passed for a female version of Lucius Malfoy.

They even had that same upwards tilt of the chin that was acquired after being the prized offspring of purebloods, and the proper etiquette, proper posture, as though their spine was stiff and straight and unmovable.

It just made _sense _that the Slytherin ice princess would marry the arrogant blonde Malfoy, and bear him exactly one hier, like many generations had done before. Did Narcissa want to? She didn't know, but it was her duty, said her mother, and she'd better suck it up and do it.

She wasn't certain if she loved Lucius or not, she thought she did – she had no idea whether her parents loved each other, it had been an assumed marriage, just like her own – but Narcissa _did _love her little blonde haired son. Before the time she had became a mother, emotions were blurred, mostly because of the fact that none were expressed around her, in her youth. It was robotic, always robotic.

But as soon as she laid eyes on him, Narcissa _loved _her son. _Loved._

* * *

_Written for the Ultimate Pairing Drabble Competiton, using the pairing Narcissa/Lucius and prompt ice._


	36. A Sister and Best Friend

_"Is this the part where you say if I hurt her, you'll kill me?" _

* * *

"Look, I know this is supposed to be done by a big brother or the father or something. But Lucy is practically another _part _of me. She's my sister and my best friend and everything I've ever wanted to be - she is an _amazing _girl. I don't know where I'd be without her. And I'm not going to tell you that I'll kill you, because we both know perfectly well that Lucy is capable of hexing you six ways from Sunday."

Molly took a deep breath and continued. "_So, _what I came here to say was that you better treat her right. Do all of the things a boyfriend is supposed to do. Keep making her happy, because I've never seen her this happy in a long time. I couldn't imagine life without her. So don't screw this up, because you'll have hell to pay if you do."

* * *

_ This is dreadfully tiny. Oh well. For the Ultimate Diversity Challenge. _


	37. Too Far Gone

You _waited _and _waited _

(A stuttering and blushing mess)

For him to notice you

In any way possible, really

To show him you weren't

_Just _Ron's little sister

He was much too _busy _

Being noble and brave

And the exact qualities of a

Gryffindor.

You loved his eyes;

_green, _a pure green,

a green you've never seen before.

Emerald, jade.

And when he finally noticed you

(Your fifth year, took long enough)

You were already _too far gone. _

_Too far gone, _with blonde hair

And a pair of grey eyes

Criss-crossed with delicacy

and mysteries and the unknown

(A completely forbidden adventure).

The grey that was like the calm

In the center of the storm.

* * *

_ For the Freeverse Challenge. First Drinny I've ever written..._


	38. Electrifying

When you first saw her, you noticed her hair, a glorious silver gold shining in the midday sun.

You noticed her eyes, an electrifying blue with either a playful twinkle or an intense gaze, like she could see through every lie you told, every guarded wall you built.

You saw her mouth, the bottom lip a little bit plumper than the top and the constant strain from resisting to smile in the most somber of occasions.

You listened to her laugh, a hopeful, melodic song like chime in the wind, and the way the corners of her mouth turned upwards when she was amused.

When you heard her speak, you knew you'd do anything to hear that voice directed at you, that perfectly imperfect mouth against yours, running your fingers through the soft strands of silk she called hair.

That was the moment you knew you were impossibly and irrevocably in love with Victoire Weasley.

* * *

_Word Count: 155_

_#582: Hopeful Song_


	39. Not Permanently

"I didn't _lie _to you!"

"What would you call it, then? _Twisting the truth?" _

"I didn't need to tell you! It doesn't involve you!"

Hermione ran her fingers through her frazzled hair. "Just look at it from my point of view! Wouldn't _you _find it a little bit suspicious when your _fiance _is going out to dinner weekly with a girl you've never met?"

"I'm telling you now, it was all for work!"

"Why didn't you _tell me _you were meeting up with a woman for work rather than me finding out and assuming what I hope isn't true?"

"Because," breathed Ron, trying to force his calm, "I didn't want you to jump to the defence. I didn't want your reaction to be this."

"Fine. Just please, next time, tell me! I don't… we need to _trust _each other."

"I will," he nodded, "I swear, I really will."

"Good," she said quietly, and slipped out of the room, leaving Ron to contemplate his actions. Before he could stop himself, he had shouted out, "Hermione!"

His beautiful, wonderful, intelligent fiancee pivoted around from where she was exiting the room.

"Are… we're good now, right?"

Hermione managed a shaky smile – he noticed the glassy look of unshed tears in her eyes. "Water under the bridge," she said slowly, because she knew she'd never be able to be _permanently _mad at Ron.

* * *

_If You Dare, #139 Water under the bridge_


	40. Can't Place It

"There's something about you that's different – I can't really quite place it, though."

Parvati stared at Hermione intently, narrowing her eyes to try and find the difference.

Hermione bit her lip instintively.

"Oh!" exclaimed Parvati. "Your teeth – something happened to your teeth – what happened?"

"Er," started Hermione, running her tongue over her newly shrunken teeth, "when I got hit by that hex, I might have let Madame Pomfrey shrink my teeth smaller than they were before…"

"That's what is different! I've been noticing that there's something different, but I couldn't place it… hmm… I wonder if I can fix my teeth, too…"

Sensing that Parvati was probably going to try and guilt her into having a very awkward discussion about beauty products (one of the only things Hermione didn't know much about) she ducked out of the room, saying quickly "I'm heading to the library."

* * *

_#59 Big Teeth If You Dare Challenge_


	41. To The End of the World Together

Streams of light shot past them, combined bodies intertwined together. Her head rested on his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut tightly, and he had dug his face into her shoulder.

Katie smelled faintly of cinnamon, even amongst the smoke and rubble of the castle, and Oliver was trying very hard to commit that scent to his memory, because it was all _her_, and not anything else.

She had closed her eyes, trying to plead to herself and pretend that they weren't there, in the middle of a battle that was bound to happen sooner or later. The light versus the dark, with every up at stake.

They both pulled back, breathing heavily and both had their arms around the others, staring eye to eye.

"To the end?" she whispered, grasping her wand.

"To the end."

* * *

_If You Dare Challenge, #78 To The End._


	42. Not Giving Up on You

_Susan/Hannah_

* * *

"Eighteen months."

The silence that followed the statement was unnerving; both girls hadn't dared to speak.

"Eighteen months? Seriously? There isn't an offer that's shorter?" Susan asked, chewing on her fingernail and obviously distressed.

Hannah cast her eyes downward. "No, there isn't."

"How are we going to do this, then?"

"Do what?"

Susan sighed, casting Hannah a sarcastic are-you-kidding-me look. "This," she emphasized, gesturing in between the two, "_us._"

"We're going to be a million miles apart, I -"

"So you say. But I'm not just going to give up on this, on us! We've come too far..."

"Too far for what?" challenged Hannah suddenly."Too far to make my own decisions? I want to get out of this country, away from all of the memories, and now I've gotten the opportunity."

Susan closed her eyes and rubbed her palm against her pant leg. "That's not what I meant... and you know it. But I'll be here at the end of the eighteen months, waiting for you to come back."

"I'd be holding you back."

Susan huffed, rather bothered that Hannah wasn't getting her point. She made sure to look into Hannah's eyes when she spoke the next words.

"I'm not giving up on you."

* * *

_ Femmeslash Competition_

_If You Dare, #90 So You Say_

_Legendary Gods/Goddesses Competition, Hanumen_


	43. Our Family

Fifty years of marriage, seven children, and numerous grandchildren. And there was much, much more to come.

Molly Weasley felt herself tearing up at the scene in front of her; yes, she was always very sentimental, but there wasn't a bigger joy in the world than _this. _All of her family in the backyard of the Burrow, biological and honorary, laughing and chatting and eating.

"Penny for your thoughts, Mollywobbles?" Arthur had appeared behind his wife, repeating a Muggle expression he had picked up from Merlin knows where. He drew his wife close to him.

"Look at everyone, Arthur," she said, eyes shining brightly, "isn't it _wonderful?_"

"Our family," he murmured, quiet enough so that Molly could barely hear him, "is perfect."

* * *

_Greenhouses Competition; category orchids._


	44. Sweet Strawberry Hair

_This is cousincest. Don't like it, don't read it._

_For the Cousincest Boot Camp, prompt #49 Care._

* * *

Rose knew it was wrong.

Lily knew it was wrong.

But that never stopped them, did it?

The floorboards breathed creaky breaths when Lily snuck in, always a few minutes after midnight. The house was silent, crickets chirping loudly and occasionally the pitter-patter of rain could be heard on the roof of the Burrow, when the girls slept over at their grandparents together.

She would slip into the bed, letting her red hair fan out over the pillow. Rose would always sense her coming, the strawberry scent emitting from her hair and would turn over, facing her.

"Lily?" Rose whispered, but she didn't need to ask. She knew it was Lily. She knew Lily better than Lily knew herself.

"Rose, it's me," Lily murmured back, curling up to Rose's side.

The two girls would curl up together, warm bodies pressed side by side. They would pretend that what they were doing wasn't wrong; but, in fact, they were just cousins who cared for each other.

Cared for each other in a way that cousins shouldn't.


	45. Bitter Midnight Tea

She sipped cold tea on those unmemorable nights.

The wisp of cold and bitterness it sent down her throat chilled her bones, froze her senses. After all, it was easier to numb away the pain then face the music, wasn't it?

And the music wasn't any lullaby. It was a song unwritten, composed of harsh decrescendos and dull notes.

She told herself no one knew. She stared at the clock, enamored by the longest hand, and how it ticked by slowly, even when she felt like her life was at a standstill.

The minutes weren't counted. They blended into each other, extending to an hour, two, three, four.

Maybe if Daphne had just set down her glass, she'd see the blue eyes peering from the darkness, in the shadows, not pale icicles like they usually were but like the sky on a clear summers' day, bright and anxious.

* * *

Theodore stood by the mirror, glancing at his reflection in the ornate-framed glass. He stood tall and lean, a matter of genetics. It was possible he had lost some weight; his father had recently commented how he was much too gaunt.

Adjusting the tie, he fixed the silver clasp on his robe and exited his borrowed bedroom in the Greengrass mansion.

* * *

It was quite surprising how unobservant one could be while lost in their own thoughts. Such was the case with Daphne Greengrass. She looked so fragile, Theodore noticed, a shadow of her former self, slightly trembling from the cold blowing through the open windows of the dining room, where she was seated.

Perhaps if he were a Gryffindor, Theodore would approach her. The right words would pour out of his mouth and she would be alright, like a gash torn but stitched back together neatly and articulately.

* * *

The same thing happened every night.

The cold wind whistled through the mansion walls, telling her with the breeze that she's just alone as she thinks she is.

That's what happens when you waltz with the devil, Daphne thinks.

She was going to get stepped on - and she didn't know it, until it was too late, until she was squished like a bug. Which brought her to the current situation.

The same cold, bitter tea was waiting for her, almost iced in the freezing January weather.

The wind whistled again, but it sounds more like a human breath.

A pair of blue eyes pour into her own.

* * *

_I don't even know how this got started or even the general point... but I like it. For Camp Potter, first aid. Wordcount: 421._


	46. As Tight as a Noose

_"I'm hanging on as tight as a noose."_

* * *

He wasn't going to try and cheer her up. He knew the only reason Katie Bell was at a pub nearing midnight, alone, wasn't to celebrate. She was, as the Muggles so eloquently put it, '_drowning her sorrows.'_

Her dull blonde hair hung in front of her face in choppy waves, making a thin sort of curtain, blocking out the rest of the world. Lee couldn't see the expression on her face, but he sensed it wouldn't be a happy one - the way her shoulders sagged, how she was slumped over her drink. Lee didn't know what was wrong with her, and he never asked. He didn't feel as if it was his place to ask. But Lee always kept an eye on her.

Washing another glass, he stacked them with the rest. A gleam from the glasses caught the light flickering from the lamps, and casted a dim glow upon Katie, who was seated at the bar.

She had been coming every night for almost a week, in the same very destructive routine; walk in, sit down, order drinks until she was incoherent, and walk out.

x-x-x-x

Katie pretended not to notice Lee staring at her, like his gaze was an invisible barrier protecting her. That's exactly how it felt like; an invisible bubble. Katie could _feel _him gazing at her, even if she couldn't see him. But she focused on the bitter sensation the firewhisky gave her throat, taking repeated sips, drowning out the world around her.

After all, Katie Bell wasn't at the lonely pub to celebrate. No, she was there to escape her chains, and maybe, just maybe, forget the reason they were there in the first place.

But she would hold on as tight as a noose, for as long as she could, to the gaze Lee roped over her.

It made her feel, for once in her life, a little safe.

* * *

_'Easily Bruised' competition._

_If You Dare, #94._


	47. Yule Ball

Alicia and Angelina had been chatting in the far corner of the common room, with their quills sitting idly on the table as Alicia, leaning forward with a gleam in her brown eyes, chatting about who's going with who and whatever else.

"Lee's asking Katie, I know that," she whispered excitedly, not-so-subtly looking across the common room to where Lee Jordan was trying to catch Katie Bell's attention.

"And I'm going with George – did I tell you?" Alicia squealed loudly, clapping her hands together. "He asked me last night… and who are you going with, Ang?"

Angelina cast a sidelong glance to where two ginger heads sat bothering another shorter, rather annoyed ginger head and his raven-haired friend.

"No one, not yet," Angelina answered quickly, tuning out Alicia's chatter.

The particular one-half of the Weasley twins that she was enamored with bent down and wrote something on a piece of paper, shoving it towards his brother and Harry; the former had a sour look on his face and asked a question.

"Oi, Angelina!"

A familiar voice called from over the drone of the common room. Certainly Fred couldn't be… her stomach twisted. _Don't get your hopes up, Angelina. _

_Would you, _he mouthed, gesturing to her, _like to go to the ball, _he mimicked dancing, and then pointed to himself, _with me? _

She blinked at him for a few seconds, before saying, "Oh, alright," loudly with a small smile lingering on her face that masked how excited she was actually feeling.

* * *

_A/N - Ultimate Pairing Drabble Competition, pairing Fred/Angelina, prompt twisted. _


	48. Smile, Darling

Scorpius Malfoy knew he liked Rose Weasley the moment he met her.

See, it wasn't because of 'rebellion' or the fact that even though they pretended to, their parents did _not _like each other. It wasn't because she was the type of girl that was 'off-limits' to him.

It was because that in the sunlight, her red hair shone like copper. The sea couldn't compare to her stunningly blue eyes, and her laugh was like music to his ears. She had a tongue-in-cheek sense of humor, and a wide grin that assured you she knew something you didn't. Even though she shouldn't have been nice to him, she was. Rose Weasley was in a class of her own.

He also saw her little frown everytime she would pass a mirror, and that truly perplexed him. Why would she frown at herself? If only she could see herself the way that he saw her. _Beautiful. _

"Why do you do that?" he had blurted one day.

"Do what?"

"Frown at yourself in the mirror," Scorpius said, "whenever you're passing."

Rose pondered the question for a moment, before responding with, "Well, I certainly can't smile at what I see, can I?"

"You should," he said honestly, and Scorpius could feel her heavy gaze on him, searching for a sign that he was lying. "You're beautiful, you know." He spoke so casually, like it was something so obvious that she should very well be able to see.

Rose snorted. "Right. I'll believe it when I see it."

"Do I need to _show _you, or can you just take my word for it?" The former was accompanied by a wide, meaningful grin and raised eyebrows.

"I think you'll need to show me," she replied with a matching grin, snaking her arms around his neck and pulling him down towards her.

He definitely _did _show her.

* * *

a/n - haha. _The Popular Song Competition, _Nobody Compares. _Camp Potter, _Tech Discovery week 3. _If You Dare, _#460 Tongue-in-cheek. Word count: 310


	49. Rex Italiae

_September 6th, 476 A.D; Odoacer officially pronounced _rex Italiae _by himself after disposing of the Emperor Romulus Augustus_ _in Rome_, _just before they capture Ravenna_.

"Odoacer, leader of Rome, head of the Germanic _foederati_!" The crowd cheered wildly, without abandon.

Falco growled and gripped his wand, the crudely cut deep rubies shining in the midday sun. What had he traveled for? Nothing! '_The fall of the empire,' _his brother called it. May the Gods save him. This _Odoacer, _some unknown officer in the shambles of the Roman Army, told by the people of Italy to kill Orestes. And that he did, outside of Placentia, followed by his brother.

Falco had braved the plains and mountains of the Roman Empire on horseback, dressed in traditional Roman clothing; certainly, he could not show any indication he was Greek. The Great Emperor Romulus Augustus had requested to meet him, Falco being able to do what none had before - to _transform into a bird, _while retaining his state of mind.

But he had gotten to Rome too late. Romulus Augustus was dead, days before he had arrived, and imagine his surprise when another presented himself in his place, sending the _Imperial insignia _to Constantinople and causing what the inhabitants were calling the _'fall of the great Western Rome.' _

The Colosseum stood tall and proud around him. Falco had chose a place at the back of the crowd, hidden in the shadows. The proud Odoacer stood in the center of the Colosseum, announcing himself to proud followers.

A spell came from behind him, whispered, and water pooled at his feet, soaking his leather drawstring shoes. Falco pivoted around immediately; it being a rather new spell, he could recognize _aguamenti _anywhere.

"_L'uomo falco_," a cloaked figure said. The broad figure was covered in draping black fabrics, and Falco was unable to see his face. Falco was frozen in fear; Italian wizards had a particular reputation for being volatile.

"How do you know who I am?" Falco said in a suppressed tone.

"The Emporer Romulus Augustus still wishes to meet with you," the cloaked figure spoke.

"The Emporer Romulus Augustus is _dead - _Odoacer _disposed _of him before declaring himself _rex Italiae_," Falco snapped waspishly. "Who are you?"

"None of your concern," the figure said in a deep, rumbling voice. "The Emperor has not perished, but instead was bribed by Odoacer to leave Rome. He is residing in London; at the magical Diagon Dispensary. He would still like to meet with you."

"How can I trust you?" asked Falco, unsure. Was the Emperor really alive? Nonetheless, he would hear what the mysterious man had to say.

"I am a wizard," he said, flashing a wispy strand of red light for a brief moment. The tip of a wand, jaggedly cut and not very powerful, peeked from the sleeve of a robe.

"What do you require?"

"The Emporer Romulus Augustus was overthrown as the _rex Italiae _of Western Rome; but there is still Damatia, controlled by Julius Nepos, and Domain of Soissons, ruled by Syagrius, son of Aegidius."

"You, Falco Aesalon, child of Greece, and the one and only falcon-bearer, have the power to restore the Emperor Romulus Augustus to his former power."

* * *

_A/N - this little piece required tons and tons of research, and even then I don't know if I got all the facts right. For the Through Time competition, using Falco Aesalon, the fall of Western Rome, the Colosseum, aguamenti, genre Adventure, deep rubies, Diagon Dispensary, and fear._


	50. Grateful

Lily Evans had seen the worst of people, and the best of people.

She'd seen James Potter, arrogant and cocky, and _James_, sweet, loving and tender. She'd seen Sirius Black, joker extraordinaire, and _Sirius,_ hurting because of his family but not letting his façade crumble. She had seen the Marauders tease endlessly, but she also saw them as a band of brothers, fighting for what they believed in.

Lily Evans had seen the worst of the world, and the best of the world.

She'd seen senseless fighting and prejudice - prejudice against her. She had been there the night Alice and Frank lost everything, the sights and the sounds of her friends being tortured mad etched in her brain like a charcoal sketch. But she had also seen Fabian and Gideon Prewett, helping a little girl who'd been stranded from her parents during a Death Eater attack.

At nineteen, Lily had seen what most don't see in their entire lifetimes. She had seen pointless fighting and violence, but she had also seen new love, impossibilities turn into possibilities, and to truly know the meaning of friends, family and loyalty.

And for that little last bit, she was grateful.

* * *

a/n - **camp potter, **for the **paintball **activity using the prompts **the first order of the phoenix, **and **new love. **also for the **snakes and ladders challenge, **character **lily evans potter, **and the **if you dare challenge, **#788, **reminiscence.** word count: 200.


	51. Not What You Thought

Roxanne was never a _girly-girl. _

See, they all expected her to wear pretty, pink, disgustingly frilly dresses like Victoire and play dolls with Molly. They expected her to braid hair and take her mother's perfume without asking, to have tea parties with teddy bears.

But she wasn't really that. Roxanne was a roll-in-the-mud, broomsticks and Quidditch kind of girl. Her hair fell loose and curly down her shoulders, completely untamed and wild. In her whole entire life, she had only worn a dress _once, _and that was for Andromeda's funeral a few years ago, and Roxanne had spent the whole time wondering how girls could wear this and not feel so _exposed, _because she certainly did.

She had always rathered playing with her male cousins than her female cousins. It wasn't because 'she wished she was a boy' or it was 'some sort of childhood rebellion'. _No. _Roxanne Weasley was never a girly-girl, and Merlin forbid she ever became one.

It wasn't the first time she had surprised everyone; in fact, she seemed to do it everyday.

Moving to Romania after Hogwarts with her Uncle Charlie to tame dragons instead of a Ministry desk job, like Dominique and Rose had settled for. (_'You're a bit dangerous, Roxie,' her mother had sighed exasperatedly) _Not settling down and having kids the moment she graduated school; why not wait, she thought, until I can support them and have a stable home?

She even surprised them with the little things, including that little miniature dragon tattoo she got at the bottom of her ribcage.

Roxanne didn't fit the mould of a _girly-girl. _No, she made her own mould, thank you very much.

* * *

a/n - camp potter, tech discovery week four. using the character roxanne weasley, and the optional prompt Not a Pretty Girl by Ani Di Franco word count: 278. also for the popular song competition; the real slim shady by eminem.


	52. Don't You Ever Regret

_**don't you ever regret forever**_

/

The day was cloudy and overcast, not uncommon in the small town of Ottery St. Catchpole. The breeze caught the trees, blowing the golden leaves off of the branches.

Molly Weasley stood clad in a worn-out robe, her silvery-red hair disarrayed from the breeze . Drawing the patched robe closer to her body, she shivered and began her voyage through the long grass. Her husband stood next to her, quiet in his mourning.

The cemetary at Ottery St. Catchpole was once a place she had never visited before, back before... well, before the war. Now she was a familar, knowing her way around easily.

The headstone in front of her was a bit battered from natural elements, but still in good shape and very much readable. Placing her calla lily gently underneath the name, she brushed the debris off of the headstone with a gentle caress, slowly and sadly. Most would have looked on her caressing the gravestone, wondering what on earth she was doing, but for her family and herself, it was an anchor of a son, brother and fried lost.

It was times like these that Molly Weasley would wish it would have been her instead of him. Her baby, her baby - he had a whole _life _ahead of him, and she very well knew she could rest peacefully if all her kids were alive and happy.

Arthur caught her gaze, and could tell what she was thinking; he always could, especially when they visited here.

"Do not regret going old. It is a priviledge denied to many," he murmured, wrapping an arm around his wife, silent tear tracks running down her face. She went quiet at the wise words.

Arthur planted a kiss on her forehead, looking down on her with a tenderness that was almost heartbreaking.

* * *

for the Quidditch League Fanfiction tournament.


	53. Comes to an End

Things happen. People change. They move on, and you have to live with it. Even though you don't want to, you have to let go.

That's what Cho tells herself.

Her and Cedric; they had a teenage romance, silly dates, awkward kisses, and unwavering loyalty. She was so sure back then, back in the 'glory days' that they would last forever. Dancing at the Yule Ball and staring into his eyes, always counting on him making her blush. Watching the sunset and holding hands. She knew they were dancing on the edge of a cliff; dating during a war. But Cho never really cared, because it was always so _wonderful, _wasn't it?

But, as she now knows, every good thing comes to an end. Well, perhaps it doesn't, but she doesn't know, does she? Every good thing that's happened to her has come to an end, so why should she think any differently?

Cedric. Even thinking the name caused little pinpricks of pain to course their way throughout her viens, to make her blood run cold and to freeze her body with grief.

And Harry. The Boy Who Lived, defeater of the Dark Lord. Even before Cedric, she had always been a little fascinated by the raven-haired, emerald-eyed Gryffindor, who had always been nothing less than considerate to her despite all of the turmoil and harrowing publicity. In her opinion, he was so genuinely _nice _that he should have been placed in Hufflepuff.

But that crashed and burned, too, didn't it? On Valentines Day, in the middle of a tea shop, no less. She still felt a little twinge of guilt for accusing Harry of wanting to be with Hermione; she had ended up dating and marrying Ron, hadn't she?

The pinpricks of pain drew patterns on her heart, leaving gashes and wounds only visible to herself. They faded with time, but scars never really go away. Not really. They're permanent, and even if she can't see them in a mirror, she _knows _they're there.

After them two, she'd vowed to herself that she wouldn't find anyone else. Because why love when it's going to hurt someday?

* * *

_Somebody That I Used To Know, _The Popular Song Competition

_#95 Lonesome, _If You Dare Challenge

_Angst Week 5; let go, edge of a cliff, sunset, _Camp Potter Challenge


	54. Alluring Little Know-it-All

He shouldn't be enamoured with that little swot, but he is.

Sirius shouldn't like the way Hermione's hair seems to crackle with electricity when she's angry, or how her eyes light up when she's talking about that elf nonsense.

He shouldn't like her because she's young enough to be his bloody _daughter, _and he definitely should not like the fact that she's a bossy, bloody alluring, know-it-all, and he can't even stand it.

And he should _not _be wanting to read Hogwarts: A History just because she seems to know the book like the back of her own hand.

Sirius shouldn't like her, but when has he actually followed the rules?

* * *

_Pairing Set Boot Camp, Sirius/Hermione;;All Kinds of Love, cross-gen._


	55. Take Care

_Goodbye isn't so bad when you know you're going to say hello again._

Lily Potter tucked a red strand of hair behind her ear and surveyed the man in front of her. Sirius leaned against the banister in the hallway, ankles crossed and smiling at her.

"Watch out for my godson for me," he said, lightly but serious. "Show him all the things I would show him."

Lily frowned at him. "You're talking as if you're... never going to see him again."

"You never know. This is a dangerous mission, and -"

"You'll be fine." She spoke solemnly, glaring at him with an intensity that dared him to disagree with her. She almost felt like they were switching roles; her reassuring him, him worrying.

Sirius breathed lightly, refusing to show the nervousness that was eating up his insides. Where was that Gryffindor bravery when you needed it? "I hope so."

His best mate's wife hesitated for a moment, like she was going to say something more, but evidently decided not to and sighed, nodding.

"Well, goodbye, then."

* * *

_50 Ways to Say Goodbye Challenge_


	56. Duel

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Defence Against the Dark Arts, year one. Using the mandatory prompt, genre: violence, "Bloody hell!", and a character must break an arm. Word count: 548._

* * *

Flashes of light exploded behind him, shouts and taunt and spells. If Dean Thomas took time to stop and look around, he was sure he would be more scared than he had ever been in his life. But he wasn't stopping - there was Death Eaters to defeat and friends to save, and he was a Gryffindor for a reason. The corridor he was in was wide, and led out to the courtyard, where several duels were in progress. It wouldn't take much for him to just sneak up and cast a simple petrifying charm...

He felt pain prickle up his arm before he heard the spell, and looked down - some astray spell caught him on the arm, and from the middle of his forearm onward was hanging limply... Dean cast a quick Shielding Charm, murmuring Episkey right after. Needles of heat shot through his body, before his blood turned ice cold and the arm mended itself.

A Death Eater stood to his left, duelling fiercely with a small figure he identified as... Colin Creevey? What was he doing here? Wasn't he too young to fight? The black, cloaked figure had his back to Dean - the perfect surprise attack. Dean made eye contact with Colin, gesturing that he would get the Death Eater.

The momentary lapse in Colin's actions as he made eye contact with Dean gave the Death Eater an advantage, but just before the Death Eater could strike, Dean murmured a Petrificus Totalus, the red light hitting the cloaked figure in the back and he fell backwards, as stiff as a board.

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Colin. "That was close." The boy breathed in with relief, shoulders sagging. Dean felt a little bad - he looked so worn out.

"What are you doing here, anyways, Colin?" Dean didn't mean to sound sharp, but didn't McGonagall order everyone under the age of seventeen to evacuate?

"I couldn't just leave," Colin replied defensively. "I couldn't just go and wait for everything to happen and then learn what happens over the wireless! I had to help..."

Dean sighed, feeling much older than his eighteen years. "Alright, mate. Just be careful."

Colin nodded his thanks once more before disappearing down the corridor.

"_Cru-_"

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" Dean interrupted the spell, shooting another burst of red light towards the incoming Death Eater who had just turned the corner where Colin came from. Colin... the Death Eater fell stiffly, and Dean jumped over his frozen body, towards where Colin left and the Death Eater came from.

What he saw next would be branded in his mind for as long as he could remember.

Colin Creevey, the boy thanking him hardly a minute ago, lay still on the corridor, joints bent at odd angles and pale, much more pale than a living, breathing human should be. No. No. Dean shook his limp shoulder, almost recoiling from how cold his body was. Dean buried his head in his hands. He could have done something. He could have told Colin to stay there, that they could fight together. He let Colin just run away, and looked what happened!

Dean stood up angrily (which was very uncommon, since he wasn't often angry) and marched to where the petrified Death Eater was, intent on getting his revenge.


	57. Stars

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, year one, astronomy, using the mandatory prompt, character Bellatrix Black, pureblood ball, and "It has been in our family for generations, who cares if it's weird?" and 1960.__ Word count: 243._

* * *

1960

Five-year-old Narcissa Black frowned. First, she had to wear this set of unbearably itchy robes to the Pureblood Winter Ball, and now her horrible aunt Walburga was chiding her mother on names? They kept their conversations to themselves, hushed voices in the corner of the room, but Narcissa and her sisters were the product of two Slytherins, and therefore were quite cunning.

"Narcissa? I simply _cannot_ believe it, Druella. Narcissa! Breaking tradition - names after the stars _defines_ the Black family! Narcissa, it's a horrid name, poor girl-"

"It has been five years, Walburga. Certainly if you wished to complain about the name that my husband and I chose for our daughter you could complain to the girl herself."

"-and she may never fit in. The reason star names were chosen is because they are eternal, and they look down on the rest. They are the top, and now you've gone and broken tradition!"

Although upset, Narcissa kept a well-practiced face of calm. She was odd, in that manner; she was much more expressionless than her sisters, who often acted rashly.

"Bella," said Narcissa, tugging on the sleeve of her nine-year-old sisters' gown, "is it weird that we have star names? And I don't?"

Bellatrix Black frowned down at her little sister. "I'm busy," she said bitingly, but still answered Narcissa's question. "It has been in our family for generations, who cares if it's weird? You're Narcissa, that isn't going to change."


	58. I'll Care for You

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, herbology, year one. Using the mandatory prompt, Teddy/Victoire, Next-Gen, 2020, 'I just feel awful' and someone must kiss someone. Word count: 148._

* * *

May 1st, 2020

"I just feel awful," Teddy groaned, rolling onto his back. "It's your birthday tomorrow and here I am, too sick to function."

"Don't apologize," replied Victoire, helping him sit up and placing a tray of food - bread and butter, soup, and iced tea - on his lap. "Grandma Molly gave me the recipe to this soup, you'd be surprised what's in it."

"Looks delicious, regardless," Teddy took a small spoonful of the soup, slurping it slowly. He slumped back against the pillows propping his back up.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

"Ah - I just feel really bad. You had a party planned at the Burrow for your birthday, and-"

Victoire scowled at him, interrupting. "Honestly, Teddy," she said softly, "You cared for me when I was sick, I'll care for you." She leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, smiling peacefully.


	59. Hey, Beautiful

_Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, week 3 - hints towards future Rose/Parvati, cross-gen_

* * *

**Hey, Beautiful**

Parvati was the kind of woman who knew what she wanted and when she wanted it. She was headstrong and proud of it. She never turned away from her problems, but faced them like the Gryffindor she was.

In her whole entire existence (not life; because surely you could exist far beyond your last breath, right?) Parvati Patil had never trusted anyone wholly. Sure, she told bits and pieces to the occasional friend, but someone who knew you better than you knew yourself held you like a glass ball in their hands and could just as easily smash you as they could protect you.

It was a little lonely, a little guarded, but for the best.

Rose Weasley changed that.

It was a stormy night the night they first met, and it was years before they dared go beyond friendship. It was at a Ministry Ball celebrating the twentieth anniversary since the war (the twentieth, it was hard to believe it was that long ago) and Rose was a tall twelve-year-old, inheriting a mix of her mother's smarts and her father's occasional recklessness. Even then, at the age of twelve, Rose Weasley seemed beyond her years.

"It's nice to see you," said Hermione, and Parvati shook hands with both her and her husband. Hugo stood half-hidden by his father, giving her a curious glance.

"I'm Rose," the tall red-head had announced - the girl certainly had her fathers' height, there was no denying that. Already taller than her mother, and a few inches short of Parvati herself. She had a glint in her eye that made her seem beyond her years - knowing and intelligent. It unnerved Parvati slightly.

She had forgotten all about her two classmate's daughter after that meeting - never thinking too much of it.

It wasn't until the twenty-fifth anniversary of the war (a quarter of a century, and it seemed like a week ago) that Parvati saw Rose again - a few inches short of six feet, almost as tall as her father and easily one of the tallest women in the room at seventeen years of age.

"It's been years, hasn't it?" Hermione asked with a soft tone, surprising her with a hug instead of a handshake. The former Gryffindors caught up, but Parvati couldn't keep her eyes off Rose. The girl - no, _woman _now - still had that knowing glint in her eye, like she'd lived and seen and knew it all. It was the kind of glint that made her feel naked to Rose's gaze, like she could see Parvati's every fault and weak point, every thought she'd ever thought and everything she wanted to be and was.

Parvati had to stifle a laugh at one point - a blonde-haired, pale-faced boy with an arrogant tilt of the chin that could only be Malfoy's son had stalked up to Rose, leaning smoothly against the wall and trying to sweet-talk her. She rolled her eyes condescendingly at him, enthusiastically joining into her fathers' conversation with Seamus and Dean.

"Oi! Parvati! C'mere and say hi, why don't ya?" called out Seamus, and just by the way he was already developing a slur on his words told her that the Irishman had a _little _bit too much Firewhisky. Why she ever dated him in her sixth year, she hadn't the foggiest. If he couldn't even understand what she was saying, then he certainly couldn't understand too much else about their ages-ago relationship.

"Nice to see you again, Parvati," said Dean warmly, shaking her hand and casting an apologetic glance towards Seamus. "Sorry 'bout him."

"Nothing we all haven't seen before," Parvati laughed warming, reminiscing.

"True that," Ron agreed, sipping his Butterbeer. He gestured to his daughter, standing tall next to him. "Dean, Seamus, Parvati, you've met my daughter Rose?"

"Even if we hadn't been introduced, I can tell she's you're daughter, mate, identical to you," Dean said. Ron smiled down at his daughter, who smiled back.

"I've heard about you," Rose said suddenly, nodding towards Parvati, "you're a reporter for Witch Weekly, right?"

"As right as rain," nodded Parvati. "I'm no Rita Skeeter though, I assure you that." Rose laughed, showing off a full set of straight white teeth. Something twitched in Parvati's stomach - not the Butterbeer.

"I'd hope not, she's absolutely vile," admitted Rose, and Parvati had an inclination to agree. Rose turned to her father. "Daddy, I'm going to go say hello to Roxanne and Fred - they've _finally _showed up." Without waiting for a response, she sashayed away towards her cousins, casting an unreadable glance to Parvati over her shoulder that made the weird feeling return in her stomach.


	60. Nothing Else

_Sorry for my break. unrequited!AndromedaBellatrix, for Big Sis Lil Sis, round 5 - using everything but the pairing and prompt, and Quidditch Fanfiction League, genre friendship and prompts 5, 11, and 14. _

_This is my first time writing BellatrixAndromeda, so here it goes._

* * *

_**"Your heart just breaks, that's all. But you can't judge or point fingers. You just have to be lucky enough to find someone who appreciates**_** you."**

* * *

**Late December 1968**

* * *

The silverware glinted in the early morning sunlight. It was an unusually mild winter morning - odd, Andromeda thinks, because this is _Scotland _and the weather isn't exactly known as being mild and reliable. She can _feel _Ted looking at her, but she doesn't want to acknowledge him at all. There's only one possible person in the world who may be able to make her feel a little better, but said person was the cause for her foul mood in the first place.

* * *

_"And someone's going to finally do something about this _contamination," _Bellatrix exclaimed gleefully. "Oh, it's wonderful, all of the Mudbloods obliterated; just imagine it, Andy!"_

_"That's great," Andromeda says weakly, despite the fact that it really was most definitely _not. _What about Ted? Ted, and a strong friendship that she's kept below the surface. She's kept it from everyone - her parents, Narcissa, year mates, and the one who should know, but doesn't - Bella. _

_"The Dark Lord," Bella whispers, hair crackling with madness. Her dark eyes are wide - if insanity was beautiful, Andromeda thinks._

_"Get rid of the filth of the Wizarding World," Bella says, just a bit louder, and Andromeda is torn - should she be dark,_ black,_ a Black sister, and agree with Bellatrix, simply because it's expected of her, or be white, standing up for Ted and everything their friendship was to her._

_But Andromeda stays silent, and remains colorless._

* * *

Andromeda's lost, lost in the memories of the night before in the common room. _The Dark Lord, he is. _She bit her lip. _All of the Mudbloods obliterated._ She can still feel Ted's worried gaze settled upon her - stupid Hufflepuffs and their caring nature. If only he wasn't her best friend... but Bella's her _sister, _of the same blood and flesh and bones. Her elder sister, the sole reason she hasn't deserted the Black family and everything it stands for.

* * *

_ "I'll prove myself loyal to him," Bella says, her fingers lingering over her left forearm, and with a sharp, no-nonsense glare she said, "and you will too, Andy." _

_"What? No, Bella, are you quite sure you are thinking this through-"_

_"I surely hope you are not _disagreeing _with me." _

_"Never, Bella. Although I do agree with the Dark Lord's views," the lie flowed out of her mouth smoothly - she was a Slytherin, and a Black at that - but she still internally winced, "this may be perhaps a bit - dangerous. We're no Gryffindors, are we?"_

_"We are Blacks, Andy. Isn't that good enough for you? Do you really need more? My decision is already made."_

_"What?"_

_Bellatrix pulled back the left sleeve of her robe._

* * *

Andromeda found an empty compartment on the way back home for Christmas break - she just needed to think. Think about _why _she was so unsure and upset with her sister's decision. She really didn't understand herself. She'd just keep worrying, worrying, until she was six feet under. Pushed below the surface of her own mind, feelings that she couldn't quite decipher. Why her chest tightened when she thought about Bella, running around under this 'Dark Lord' her parents and sisters held under such high regard and what Bella would be doing for him.

* * *

_"You know, I don't think you should be around me." Ted leaned against the pillar, hands in his robe pockets. Andromeda's lips tightened. She knew where this was going._

_"For your own good," he started, Hufflepuff through and through. "Your family persecutes people like me. If they knew we were friends, you'd be disowned. You've told me. You hear the rumors, don't you? The 'Dark Lord,' murdering Muggle-borns and half-breeds alike."_

_"I'm a Slytherin, Ted," Andromeda explains, as if it explains everything. "Just because I shouldn't doesn't mean I can't."_

* * *

It was Christmas Eve, and Andromeda was wandering the halls of her stately home alone. She always had mixed feelings about Christmas Eve - the waiting for midnight to strike as a child was long and distant, yet every second the clock struck closer to midnight.

"Did you have a Mudblood itch that you had to scratch, an addiction, persay, Andy, or are you just playing around?" The voice startled her; she hadn't heard anyone around her, she thought she was completely alone.

"What?"

"You heard me, Andy," Bella snapped, a nightgown on and lantern in her hand. "I _know _about you and _Ted Tonks_, Andy. Even _talking _to a Mudblood like that - "

"Don't join the Dark Lord, Bella."

"That's not the point! You're a _Black, _noble and ancient, and throwing away your heritage for this _Mudblood_- the last time _you'll _ever see him -"

"I don't care! _Don't join the Dark Lord!" _

"What does it matter?" Bellatrix sneered. "Why do you care, all of a sudden? Whatever you say is going to be insignificant, Andromeda. You're only fifteen. You don't know anything."

"Because you're going to get yourself killed!" Andromeda shouted, the sudden edge to her soft voice making Bellatrix flinch. "You're going to get yourself killed and I wouldn't know what to do! You need to stay, please, because it's selfish, I know, but I don't know what I'd do without you!"

"I love you!" Andromeda finished, breathing heavily. She tensed up - she hadn't really meant to say it, and she sure as hell didn't know what it meant...

"I'm a Death Eater now, Andy, and nothing else."

* * *

_Um. Yes. I hope that was alright._


End file.
